Homeward Bound
by Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge
Summary: An AU to s3. ep1. An alternative way of Merlin returning to Camelot- this time, still in chains... NOW OFFICIALLY ON HIATUS.
1. The shiny chains of Destiny

**Okay, another collaborative piece written by myself and peskychesk in collusion with each other (He he. Collusion…). Basically, this stemmed from a discussion of how Morgana and Morgause must view Merlin. This led to us talking about the end of 1. We'll leave the rest for you to judge. **

**(p.s. Unless you are completely devoid of humour, this story should be read aloud in as dramatic a voice as you can muster. It adds a lot. He he he he [If you don't have humour…Leave. Now. I mean it. Right now. Are you gone? STOP READING ALREADY! Argh!…] Actions also help- the bigger the better.)**

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"You chose to poison one of my own. You may regret that."

With a swish of silky blonde locks, and a glitter of chain mail, Morgause promptly flounced from the clearing, flanked by her two fiendish flunkies.

'_Oh woe is me_,' thought Merlin, as he suddenly found himself so very alone. And not for the first time. In fact, people seemed to like deserting Merlin. Almost as much as they liked deserting Leon. It was rather upsetting really. However, in this case, it could be counted as a blessing.

Merlin couldn't quite fathom just _why_ he'd been left in a clearing, wrapped up in what were, to be honest, rather needlessly _shiny_ chains. After all, surely the two sisters would have found it a lot more enjoyable to actually _watch_ him suffer and die… Maybe they were a lot more thick, and a lot less sadistic, than he gave them credit for… But he wasn't about to complain.

After gasping a few times he took a deep breath through his nose (having momentarily forgotten that his mouth could be used for something _other_ than just sarcastic comments- however much a certain prat deserved them), and hurried to voice some of the first spells which just so happened to conveniently pop in to his mind.

"_Abrecap Benda_." Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. None of his spells ever worked the first time. But, for some reason, the unnecessarily shiny chains did manage to get just that little bit shinier. Returning once more to the aforementioned gasping, he decided to give the spell another go. After all, what did he have to lose? Apart from his life. And, therefore, Arthur's life. And, following on, the entirety of Camelot and even the future of Albion… He paused. '_Maybe I should just get on with it_.'

"_Abrecap Benda!_"

Once again, the chains shone brighter. And, apparently, tightened. Just a bit. And then they released to their former pressure. Maybe, he reasoned, the chains just wanted a hug. Nevertheless, they were rather cumbersome things.

Settling his thoughts once again (after briefly marvelling at his own ability to get distracted given the severity of the current situation), he decided to try a different spell.

"_Irunfaestnunga onlucap me!_" The chains glittered again. It was rather annoying really. And, to be honest, quite likely to attract unwanted attention. Hearing a branch creak in the distance, Merlin decided that maybe it was about time he quit the pointless musing and got the hell out of there.

Somehow clambering to his feet (showing skill which Arthur would never have believed possible of the bumbling buffoon of a manservant), he promptly proceeded to hop rather inelegantly up the slope to his right (away from the creaking) and through the trees.

After a few hours, and several rather painful meetings with the forest floor, he finally stumbled out of the forest and on to a random dirt road (not that there were any other types of road really, apart from maybe grassy ones). His body then decided that the road would be somewhat improved if it had his face planted in it. At this, Merlin just gave up. He may as well have a little nap.

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

Of course, this meant that he was out cold when a certain cart just happened to pass by…

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**Dun Dun Dunnnnn!**

**Right, so there we go. Now, we have the final chapter planned, as well as a few mishaps which could befall our hapless hero, but we've also planned a little treat for any reviewers. Wanting to stick to the timeframe of the original episodes means that Merlin has to be away from Camelot for two days. Oh yes- two days in which we can muck around with poor ickle Merlin's life as much as we so please. As such, if there is anything you'd like included, don't hesitate to let either one of us know. As long as we like it, it'll be in there.**

**Thanks for reading, and please- if we haven't scared you too much- review.**


	2. A link to the past

**Okay, to start off, we want to thank all the people who left such lovely reviews (not so much the judgemental sexualist who decided to rather inappropriately leave a horribly rude rant). We only had one suggestion of mishaps to include (PPitP, thanks a bunch), so please remember to leave anything you want included- however minor. **

**As before, if you want this story to have the full effect, it really needs to be read aloud. With both a dramatic voice and actions (it'll really add to the beginning of this chapter). Well done to those of you who did so for the last chapter. Virtual cakes to you (because we don't think you need any more cookies).**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Merlin :'(**

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When Merlin woke just a few short minutes into his nap, it was to the rather surprising sensation of being slapped about the face. The years of intensive, and more often than not fruitless, training with Arthur alerted him to danger. He opened his eyes, expecting to see one of the many generic bandits who seemed to so enjoy plaguing Camelot's countryside.

What he wasn't expecting to see was a somewhat bedraggled, and horrifyingly familiar, face.

A woman's face.

A face which haunted the dreams of men far and wide.

A face which belonged to a name.

A name which was whispered in the most terrifying of tales.

That name was…

Merlin drew back, hardly able to contain the horror he felt at the sight before him. The dreaded name escaped his lips before he could stop himself. A single whisper. A single word.

"Vivian…"

The platinum-haired woman snapped up straight where she knelt, sending him an arrogant glare. A glare which Merlin had noticed long ago seemed to be an inherent trait among the nobility- some might even say that it was a talent reserved only for the utterly stuck-up.

"That's _Lady_ Vivian to you."

Immediately swooping back down, and speaking in that sickeningly sweet voice- which was the very sound to have put both him and Arthur off of honey for no less than two months after her previous visit- the figure of nightmares continued. "Now where's Arthur?"

Merlin blinked hard. And then blinked again. And again. Maybe, he reasoned (he seemed to be reasoning a lot lately), if he wished very, _very, __**very **_hard, then the creature before him would disappear and be replaced by something easier to deal with. Something like another questing beast for example.

Unfortunately, it wasn't to be.

The monstrosity pressed it's face ever closer to his, and practically screeched "Where. Is. MY. Arthur?"

Merlin gulped.

He didn't really want to die today. But he was fairly sure that even dying would be a more pleasant experience than what Arthur would come up with if Merlin were to return to Camelot with Vivian in tow. As such, he chose the next best option.

Retreat.

Quickly.

Darting to his feet (well, attempting to dart- it was kind of hard considering the unnecessarily shiny chains and all- it was more of a stumbling really), Merlin promptly began to hop as fast as he could back in to the forest filled with man-eating creatures which he had just managed to escape from. After all, anything was better than remaining where he was… Surely…

Unfortunately, the monster was somewhat faster than a muscle-less manservant, who also happened to be restrained by unbreakable (and unnecessarily shiny) chains. She/It quickly latched onto the chains and yanked him back on to the road. Where he landed. On his back. Again. Another thing he seemed to be doing quite often of late.

Vivian, not noticing that Merlin had immediately began to worm his way back towards the trees, began to rant.

"Where is my Arthur? I want to see my Arthur! I haven't seen my Arthur in over a year!" She continued like this for a good few minutes. Until she finally realised what Merlin was doing. At which point she decided that it would be much easier for her to just sit on the man.

'_Well_,' thought Merlin_, 'I guess I'm not going anywhere for a while…'_

With that in mind, he decided to ask the question which quite frankly should have popped in to his head the moment he had first seen the detestable creature now perched on his ribcage.

"Lady Vivian," he choked out, "what are you doing here?"

Vivian looked snootily down at him, then nonchalantly exclaimed the following.

"Oh, I just grew so tired of a life without my Arthur that I escaped daddy's castle, stole a cart from an ugly-looking man in the street, and decided to make my way to Camelot. But I was concentrating on the thought of my dear Arthur so much that now I'm lost!" She screamed. A shrill scream which could have rivalled most banshees. Then sighed. Finally, after barely a second of quiet contemplation, she glared down at her captive once again.

"Now- I know that you're the ugly little thing which follows my dear Arthur around. So tell me- which way is Camelot? Which way to my love?"

Merlin gulped. Again.

Now it was decision time. Decision one- point Vivian in the right direction, hitch a lift with her to Camelot, and then get killed by Arthur. Decision two- point Vivian in the wrong direction, and then set off by himself once she had gone. Either way, surely he would still get there in time to warn the prat about the huge army headed his way.

Merlin really didn't want to die. So decision two it was.

Jerking his head to the left (which just so happened to be the opposite way to Camelot- oh yes, Merlin was perfectly capable of directions- surprising that), he struggled to get a word in edgeways- Vivian had started yet another rant.

"He's that way. Just follow this road for another day or two. You'll get there. Eventually."

It was at that precise moment that the sky decided that Merlin didn't really have it hard enough. It started to rain. Well, pour really. Well, it was more of a torrential downfall.

Vivian, deciding that her precious hair needed protection (after all- Arthur deserved to see her at her best) promptly proceeded to yank Merlin's neckerchief from where it was tied and fasten it around her own head- Ignoring, of course, the violent protestations coming from her current perch.

"Ah," she crooned, "It's been near Arthur!"

Moments later found Merlin alone once again. This time, in the pouring rain.

And, to his utter and eternal misery, without a neckerchief.

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**He he. Well, you know the drill. Review. Leave suggestions. Giggle. Smile. Be happy. Have fun. Etc. etc. etc.**

**See you next chapter (although not literally)**


	3. A kink in the chain

**We're back! After a total of…three days… Blame Uni. And my rehearsals. And our housemate's birthday. Etc. etc. etc. We have an infinite (and increasingly odd) supply of reasons.**

**Okay, so we have a plan. The two of us have discussed the joy of appearing in another author's story (a joy a only recently discovered), and as such have decided that, should you leave an awesome enough suggestion for a Merlinesque Mishap, then YOU- yes, YOU!- may well have the chance appearing in whatever randomness we come up with next. What do you say?**

**I think you guys get the drill about reading out loud. If not, then once again- this story is made much funnier if you read it out loud. We promise.**

**Anyway, on with the latest :D It's short. But fun.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Merlin *sigh***

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Merlin hopped. And hopped. And hopped some more.

And the rain poured. And poured. And poured some more.

And Merlin hopped. And hopped. And hopped some more.

And got wet. And even more wet. Until he couldn't get any wetter any more.

But still he hopped. And hopped. And hopped some more.

Then he tripped over. And over. And landed face-first on the floor.

And then he got up. And hopped. And hopped some more.

After about five minutes of hopping, and rain-pouring, and falling, and being wet, and- of course- hopping, Merlin sighed. At times, he mulled, it really did feel as though someone, somewhere, was controlling his life. And making him go through as many random mishaps as humanly possible in the process. It really was frustrating at times.

'_It's raining,_' he thought, as he hopped past an unnecessarily giant oak.

'_It's pouring,_' he thought as noticed a strange shape huddled at the base of said oak.

'_It's…_'

"Hang on…" said Merlin. "That's an old man." A snorting sound wriggled up and started beating against his ears, grinning madly (because in Camelot, even noises can come alive).

"And he's snoring."

Merlin, reasoning with himself once again, decided that maybe it was a good idea to go and check on the strange, decrepit old man. After all, surely there had to be _something_ wrong with him for him to be sleeping all the way out here. It was, after all, a road through a monster-infested forest.

Unfortunately, just as Merlin was about to reach the man, he managed to trip over a tree root which had miraculously appeared out of nowhere. At least, he could swear blind it appeared from nowhere. But no-one would ever believe him.

He landed, of course, in the old man's lap. The one piece of good fortune was that he landed on his back. This, of course, had the immediate effect of waking the decrepit old man from his slumber. The man jerked wildly, his unnecessarily long beard swinging as he snapped his head from side to side.

Merlin coughed.

The man's gaze dropped.

Merlin grinned. "Hello."

The man scowled. The man growled. He huffed, and he puffed, and wished, for some reason, that there was a house he could blow down. Forsaking this idea, he instead sneezed on Merlin. Who promptly looked disgusted, and proceeded to wipe his face on the man's shirt.

This, as anyone could guess, did nothing to improve the man's mood. In fact, it made the man so angry that he decided at that moment to change his name from Sebastian to Lucy.

"Who arrr ya?" Lucy growled. "And what're ya doin' on me lap?"

"Ummm…I'm Merrrlin," Said Merlin, subconsciously slipping in to the same accent as Lucy.

"Nevr mind," said Lucy, swapping accents. "We canna all chooose arrr names. Well, 'ceptin me. 'Cos I'm me. Well, I was me. Then I was you. Then I was Phil. No idea where I got tha' name from. Then We, then Moon, then Alan. Then Sebastian. And now I'm Lucy. "

"Oh."

"Yeah- I change me name pretty offen- makes life int'restin'"

"I 'ave two names," said Merlin, "but' I didnae know't 'til I got ta Camelot."

"Ya know me pain!" Cried Lucy, springing to his feet (dislodging an unfortunate Merlin in to a puddle, unnecessarily shiny chains and all). He then proceeded to skip merrily away down the road, singing about frogspawn and caterpillars as he went.

"Bye Lucy!" Yelled Merlin, too caught up in the old man's pace to even realize that he was now getting muddy as well as being wet.

"Me name's not Lucy! It's Ramachandra!" Ramachandra called back, before promptly slipping sideways and falling asleep in a ditch.

Merlin, surprisingly unfazed by this (and, once again, left all alone) managed to once again get to his feet and continue along his hopping way. '_Maybe_,' he thought, '_I should change my name. Something like…Wiebe. Yes. Wiebe. I like Wiebe. Maybe I'll keep it…'_

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**He he. Weibe. That's an actual medieval name. It means 'fighter' or 'warrior'. Lol.**

**Anyway, we realize that this chapter was…is… somewhat odd. And probably always will be. But it made us giggle. Actually, considering just how many changes of accent I went through reading this out loud, it's a surprise we even managed to stop laughing long enough to finish writing it.**

**Hope you liked it. We did. And please review. Remember, the better a mishap suggestion, the more likely we are to decide to bung you in here somewhere. Thank you :D**


	4. Connections

**Alright people- first off, thanks once again for all the lovely reviews. I see a lot of you were just as… should I say weirded out?… by the last chapter as we ourselves were while writing it. But then, when you're as bonkers as we are, these things just happen XD**

**Ack! Sorry it took so long for us to get this chapter up! Peskychesk went home for her Birthday (she's twenty now- Lol), and I've been rushed off my feet with rehearsals etc. Also, this chapter would have been up hours ago if it weren't for Peskychesk's inability to press the 'add chapter' button. Tch.**

**But, enough excuses. On with the chapter!**

**Oh, and as always (apart from one specific reader- you know who you are), this should be read aloud to gain the full effect. Enjoy :D**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Merlin (But we do own his decision to maybe change his name to Wiebe.)**

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Merlin was getting tired. Of hopping. Not that he wasn't tired anyway (after all, he hadn't especially had a lot of sleep the previous night), but hopping around while bound in unnecessarily shiny chains can really take a lot out of you. A fact which he was fast discovering.

It was just as he finished this train of thought that a clittering, clattering, rumbling sound from behind him alerted him to the presence of a cart.

Merlin dived out of the way. Or, at least, tried to. Unfortunately, his sense of direction wasn't really that great, and he ended up diving right in to the path of said cart. Luckily, though, the horse seemed to be more intelligent than him, and managed to avoid what would have otherwise been a somewhat messy end for the young warlock. Not exactly what he'd always pictured his final moments to be like.

A strange-looking woman…

…Or rather, a strange-looking, extremely _short_ woman, leapt from the excessively huge horse (because, apparently, she didn't feel like driving a cart the regular way), and bounced over to where Merlin lay across the road.

"Yo!" She exclaimed, in a voice which seemed to shift between being deep and booming to high and squeaky. "My name's Grettirella. Need a hand?"

Merlin stared up at the tiny woman hovering above him for a moment, trying to recover from the shock of hearing the oddest voice he had ever heard (and this coming from someone who had only recently met Ramachandra/Lucy/Sebastian/Alan/Moon/We/Phil/You/Me). His face, he faintly realized somewhere in the back of his mind, must have been, at that moment in time, set in what Gaius would refer to as a rather excellent impression of a goldfish.

Eventually, his brain caught up with what the strange little woman had actually said, and he slammed his gaping mouth shut. And then opened it again. Only, this time, it was to answer her question.

"Ummm…I'm… going to Camelot?"

"Perfect!" Shouted Grettirella. "That's precisely the way I'm going. Hop up on the back there, and I'll give you a lift."

Merlin just blinked at her. Did the strange little woman honestly not realize that he was _chained up_? Honestly- the chains were so unnecessarily shiny that it was practically impossible _not_ to notice them.

"Ummm… I can't really…"

The woman slapped her face. Hard. Hard enough to leave a large red mark on her forehead (For some reason, in the pattern of the word 'Dunce').

"Silly me!" She exclaimed. "I forgot. Just give me a moment." And without further ado, she promptly grabbed Merlin by the ankles, spun him around, and flung him through the air. He landed perfectly right on top of the mound of hay in the back of the cart. It was, Merlin mused, actually quite comfortable. Maybe he should take a few more naps in the stables?

A few seconds later, and they were off. Rolling down the road at breakneck pace.

Strangely enough, the excessive speed seemed to calm Merlin down. In fact, within minutes, it had lulled him to sleep.

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The next thing the young warlock knew, he was falling- sliding down the back of the hay mound.

And crashing into a young boy.

A young boy with grey eyes and an evil glare.

Only one thing went through Merlin's mind at that point in time.

'_Oh, Glockenspoodle!_'

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**Sorry. We know it's short- but we have so many ideas for what comes next chapter that we should be able to make it up to you. Think of this one as filler. And please don't kill us!**


	5. Rapped in chains

**Ack! We're sooooooo incredibly sorry! It's been almost three weeks since we last posted a chapter! We can only put this down to a lazy attitude to work (resulting in last minute scrambles). Oh, plus I have the excuse of extra rehearsals, due to the play I'm in (which finished on Friday *Sad face*). But we're back! Time for chapter five. Plus, it looks like (at least for now) we'll be doing one, possibly two, chapters a week.**

**As always, unless you have a very humorous inner voice, this chapter should be read aloud- in as dramatic a voice as possible.**

**And remember, all suggestions for things you want included in this story are welcome (in fact, if they're extra good, we may just include you- now isn't that special XD).**

**Oh, and thanks go to Kitty O for the idea to use Mordred XD**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Merlin. But we do eat a lot of chocolate.**

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'_Oh, Glockenspoodle!_' Thought Merlin, as he stared up into the face of his tiny little arch-nemesis-to-be. It was a reaction which was only to be expected- after all, he'd begun to believe that he was free of the little pain in the backside.

Mordred jumped to his feet (whacking Merlin's head in to the floor in the process)."What are _you_ doing here?" He screeched.

Merlin blinked, too shocked to answer. It was the first time he'd ever heard the miniature demon speak aloud, and he was surprised to realize that a part of him hadn't even thought of Mordred having an actual voice. In fact, he was so shocked that he didn't even notice the seven other cloaked figures until the tallest of them stepped forward. The figure pulled down his hood in a dramatic, sweeping gesture, revealing a full head of wispy ginger hair (which, for some reason, on him, succeeded in making him look entirely unimpressive). He was about to speak, but Mordred got there first.

"Argh!" Screamed the evil-eyed midget, staring down at his cloak, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "I don't believe it! I only just washed that!"

Eight heads turned as one, following the diminutive pre-adolescent's gaze. Sixteen eyes blinked in unison at the sight which met them. Because there, smeared down one side of the emotionally-challenged Lilliputian's cloak, was a large brown mark, perfectly matching the squashed pile of steaming horse-dung positioned where Mordred had fallen (mere inches from Merlin's head).

There was a moment of horrified silence, before the temperamental minikin glared once more at Merlin (because he seemed practically incapable of any other expression most of the time).

Finally, he announced in as dramatic a voice a pocket-sized terrorist could possible produce, "I shall never forgive this Emrys! And I shall never forget!"

The tall ginger-headed man took hold of Mordred's shoulders, rolling his eyes as he did so. Looking around, Merlin noticed that pretty much every person present was rolling their eyes too. So he decided to join in. After all, it was blatantly obvious that this was one of the furious, vertically-challenged pre-teen's favourite sayings.

"I apologize, Emrys," began the hulk of a man, "little Mordred here has some anger issues I'm afraid. We're looking in to it." He stepped forward, hoisting Merlin to his feet. "My name is Alvin. I am the leader of my camp."

The remaining men began to chorus in unison.

"Leader!" They yelled, slamming their right hands on to their legs and bending over slightly.

"Leader!" They continued, at the same time as their left hands hit their left legs.

"Leader!" They practically screamed, both hands coming down once again, before they each took turns body-slamming each other, in what people worldwide would someday come to recognise as a 'sumo dance.'

Alvin simply rolled his eyes again, and had just opened his mouth to speak, when an odd-looking druid in a bright orange cloak and long sparkly yellow gloves swaggered forward. As a third druid put a hand to his mouth, and started making strange beat-like sounds, the orange-clad figure spoke in time to the rhythm.

"Yo yo yo there Em-er-is! Why you all tied up like dis? In chains that shine and sparkle so? With no need I can see- hey ho!"

Merlin just stared, completely confused. Every man's brain has a limit to what they could find normal, and this odd creature in front of him had just caused Merlin's limit to drop so far behind him that it wasn't even visible any more. In fact, now that he thought back, he wasn't actually sure he'd seen it very often since the clearing the previous night.

"Yo Emrys, my man, you gonna say? Or just go on your happy way? I have to say, I'm rather keen, to hear why you're in chains so squeaky clean."

After a few more seconds of bemused silence, Alvin stepped forward.

"I apologize for Etzel, my lord Emrys, he is rather enthusiastic about rhyming couplets. He has decided to create a new form of music he calls 'Ye old Rappe' and refuses to speak in any other form."

"Oh," was Merlin's ineloquent reply.

"I have to admit though, Emrys, to being somewhat curious myself. Why is it that you are out here wrapped up in what can only be described as unnecessarily shiny chains?"

"Oh," said Merlin. "That's a long story. And one that really would be a waste of time to go in to." He paused. "Oh, and while we're talking, would you mind not calling me Emrys?"

"Merlin, then? I hear that is your non-druidic name."

"It is, but no. I find I've grown tired of people deciding to call me whatever they want- it's so easy to lose track when you go by Merlin, Emrys, Idiot, Girl, Moron, Young warlock and such. I could go on. And so, I have decided to create a new name for myself." Merlin straightened up to his full height, switching to his 'power voice.' "From this day forth, I shall be known as Wiebe!"

"Yay Wiebe!" Cheered one of the druids, rather more enthusiastically than necessary. The others just ignored him. Wiebe couldn't really blame them- this particular druid seemed like a right idiot.

"And besides," continued Wiebe, "I'd think considering the timing you would all be perfectly aware of why I'm here at this specific point in time- I obviously rolled off of the back of Grettirella's cart and landed on the puny hellion you've got there."

The knee-high terror in question simply glared at Wiebe indignantly, and stormed off to the other side of the road muttering about 'never forgiving' and 'never forgetting.'

"I glimpse a problem rising up," began Etzel, "more tricky than a poisoned cup- this road has proven tough to cross. The smear of poop does prove it, boss."

Wiebe just stared at him for a moment, trying to work out just what it was the freak was trying to say, when another of the druids stepped forward, pulling down his hood as he did so. This one also had wispy hair (it seemed to be the fashion among druid-kind), but his was blonde.

"I think what Etzel is trying to say is that it has proven somewhat hazardous of late for our kind to cross- whether for fear of discovery by Uther's men, or by a legendary warlock landing on us and sending us flying into a pile of horse manure."

"Ah! Idea dude!" Exclaimed Alvin.

Wiebe raised an eyebrow. "Dude? What on earth is a _dude_?"

"Ah- Idea dude is our best idea expert. We used to call him 'Idea Druid.' but after a while (and a lot of slips of the tongue) it sort of… shifted… into dude. We're quite proud of the word."

Wiebe was distinctly unimpressed. A word like _dude_ sounded completely ridiculous. It would never catch on. Not in a thousand years. "And, uh, what is Idea dude's actual name?"

Idea dude stepped forward. "I'm afraid it's actually Jim. But please, I must ask that you not tell anyone else Lord Em- Wiebe. It's a rather delicate matter. And _so_ unimpressive. Not even the slightest _hint_ of mystery."

"Fine," said Wiebe, eager to get this meeting over with so as to continue along his hopping way. Unnecessarily shiny chains and all. "What is your idea?"

"I believe some form of crossing is needed- a clear distinctive pattern upon the road so that travellers such as ourselves will no longer bear the burden of horse-poopiness."

The others promptly began leaping around, yelling out exclamations of how brilliant an idea it was. Another few seconds, and they all began putting forward their own ideas.

"I think orange spirals would work!"

"No! Pink and blue dots!"

"Pictures of bunny rabbits!"

"Our faces!" (This one was suggested by the idiot druid from before. Seconds later, he found himself magically gagged.)

"Enough!" Yelled Alvin. "This was Idea dude's idea. So Idea dude should be the one to decide.

Idea dude, who had been kneeling down and staring at the floor throughout the entire kafuffle, promptly clambered to his feet.

"Stripes." He turned back to the road, and muttered several words in the ancient language. Moments later the dirt in front of him began to change colour, until there was a section of road entirely covered in black and white stripes. "There. That ought to do it. Now, I don't know why, but I have a sudden urge to name it a _'Zebra Crossing'_ for some reason…"

And with that, the druids swarmed over to where they had exited the forest. They turned as a group and began to march over the newly-formed crossing, Etzel chanting all the time.

"Yo Wiebe my man, we'll see you soon. We're outta here, it's nearly noon. Now there's a crossing here so neat, I hope we ain't knocked off our feet!"

And with that, they were gone (having collected the degenerative runt on the way).

Wiebe stayed stock still for several minutes, trying to work out just what he had done wrong in his life to merit meeting such morons. As he turned to leave, he (obviously) managed to trip himself over his own feet…

…Smearing the 'zebra crossing' in the process.

'_Oh well,_' thought Wiebe. After all, who knew how the King would react if random (and completely useless) lines started appearing all over his roads? He'd probably start another purge…

It was only then that he remembered that the King was currently insane. '_Hmmm… Maybe he won't be too bothered by it after all…_'

And with that, Wiebe continued on his hopping way.

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**Phew. Alright, from now on, if we take more than a week to update, you all have permission to nag both myself and peskychesk as much as you want, through the magic of PMs. Hope you enjoyed it, and please review (remember, ideas you'd like to see included are welcome XD).**


	6. Shackled to a name

******Okay, much better for time this time round (although we still took slightly longer than planned- blame the five pieces of coursework we had due). Now, dedications for ideas in this chapter are as follows:**

******-PoisoningPigeonsinthePark. PPitP- you should be able to recognise where your suggestions come in.**

******-The switches in our house. Said switches have names, faces, and distinct personalities. We plan to include all six of them in time (as well as the house ghost, Philadelphia), but for now we've settled with two of the upstairs switches- Bob and Dexter (Who, we have discovered, seem to somewhat resemble Pinky and the Brain). We hope you enjoy meeting them.**

******-Our brains. Because they seem to be able to come up with things we ourselves would never dream of. And yes, to us that makes perfect sense.**

******Anyway, please enjoy (read aloud if the fancy takes you- the different voices are fun).**

******Disclaimer: We don't own Merlin. Although I do own a cardboard tube. And a pop gun. And lots (and lots and lots and lots and… well, you get the idea) of teddies. Peskychesk owns things too. Might list some of those next chapter :D**

* * *

"Dexter?" Inquired an extraordinarily lanky man, whose scarlet nose stood out in stark contrast from his deathly pale, sallow skin, "do you see something?"

"See something? See something? I don't see nuffin, Bob!" Replied the scrawny, diminutive man next to him, his out-of-control hair waving wildly. "I ain't seen nuffin good since my eyes mucked 'emselvs up when I were five- you know that!"

"Of course I am aware of that, you moron," stated Bob, in a voice most thespians would kill for. "But, as my henchman, I expect you to be at least the slightest bit competent. Over there," he gestured towards the horizon, "in the distance, there seems to be a distinct glimmer. You can't say you didn't even notice that!"

"Sorry Bob, but to be honest, I was too distracted by your nose. I rarely see anyfing else."

Bob just glowered. Bob enjoyed glowering. He thought it was a suitable expression for the future ruler of the world. Trying to go back to ignoring his own (bright red) nose, he instead turned back towards the road. "Just shut up Dexter, and go and summon the villagers. I have a feeling something interesting will soon appear."

"Okay Bob," squeaked Dexter excitedly (he didn't seem to know how to speak any other way), before he marched off towards the village centre.

Ten minutes later found the entire village gathered by the Blacksmith's forge. A strange girl stepped forward, her multi-coloured hair shooting sparks in random directions.

"So Bob, why are we here today? This better not be another one of your plans for world domination. Because if it is, then I'm off. There is _no way_ I'm going to end up covered in frogspawn again. You can forget it."

"No," sighed Bob dramatically, "this is not, currently, a plan for world domination. My latest masterpiece will not begin until tomorrow. And besides," he glowered, "today's plan is already done with. No, instead I had Dexter summon you here to see if any of you had eyesight good enough to make out what that sparkly thing in the distance is."

The girl stared at him blankly for a few seconds, as did the other (more generic) people of the village, before everyone finally turned their attention in the direction of the road. And, sure enough, within a few seconds most of them had spotted the glint of reflected light as something moved towards them.

Nonplussed, they spent the next half hour staring out, until eventually the shape became recognisable as a man.

* * *

A man wrapped up in what all of them agreed were rather unnecessarily _shiny_ chains.

About an hour after Wiebe had (rather happily) left the company of the druids, he found himself nearing a quaint little village just like any other. Or rather, it would have seemed like any other quaint little village, were it not for the gaggle of rather odd-looking people staring at him in utter bemusement. Just as he stepped past the village border, the strangest-looking of the lot stepped forward, her eyes (one one black, one puce) glinting. She raised a single finger, pointed it at Wiebe and exclaimed (somewhat enthusiastically), "MERLIN!"

Wiebe was about to protest at the use of the now obsolete name when the girl's gaze landed upon his neck, her expression shifting to one of terrifying fury.

"WHERE'S. YOUR. NECKERCHIEF?"

Wiebe just blinked. "Huh?"

"Your neckerchief. You should be wearing a neckerchief. You just don't seem like Merlin without one."

Trying to hide just how much he was missing the familiar weight around his bare neck, Wiebe drew himself up to his full height and stated obstinately, "I don't care if I don't look like Merlin. My name isn't Merlin anyway. I changed it. It's Wiebe."

The girl frowned (secretly trying to hide how cute she thought his obstinate face was). "But your name still _reads_ as Merlin."

"What?"

She pointed to his chest, where he noticed a swarm of words swirling around his torso. The most prominent one was 'Merlin,' followed by 'Emrys,' 'Destined one,' and even 'Girl's petticoat.' But no 'Wiebe.'

"What the?" He snapped his head up, inspecting the troupe of people before him. Everyone, he realized, had a name floating somewhere around their body. There was a 'Dexter,' a 'Bob,' and even an 'Uther' (the King really wouldn't like that- the person was a teenage girl).

He turned back to the girl who had addressed him. Her name was the oddest of the lot (which rather suited her image, to be perfectly honest. It was 'PoisoningPigeonsinthePark.' Abbreviations of it were hovering in a circlet around her head- PoiPig, Pigeons and PPitP among them. She simply giggled at his expression, before switching in to what men worldwide recognised as the 'don't mess with me' look.

"Right," she began. "There a couple of bones I want to pick with you Merlin."

"Wiebe," he insisted.

"A couple of bones I want to pick with you, ___Merlin_. Would you mind dreadfully if I brought them to your attention?"

Wiebe opened his mouth to answer, but before he could her expression became excessively cheerful.

"I didn't think you'd mind. After all, you never mind. Well then- Five," she said, ticking off the number on one hand, "did you notice that you're kind of wet? I mean, the rain stopped…" She paused, turning to the tall, rather sinister looking man named 'Bob' and pushing his nose so that it was upturned. For some reason, his expression suddenly switched from sinister to gormless. "When would you say the rain stopped, Bob?"

Bob simply stared at her with what was possibly the dumbest expression ever known to man. "I dunno. Long time. Long time good. Short time bad. Eggs nice." And with that, he pulled an egg out of a pocket (where there was no pocket previously) and squatted on the grass, munching away.

PPitP (as Wiebe had decided to refer to her- it had a nice feel to it) sighed and turned to the crazy-looking man who was next in line. "What do you think, Dexter?"

"I dunno PoiPig. Musta bin' at least an hour an' a half though- 'cos Bob was sayin' how he couldn' use his world-takin' over wiv fire plan."

"Ah! I was wondering why I hadn't been called upon for some ridiculous stunt. Well, never mind." She turned back to Wiebe. "Continuing on- ___did _you notice that you're sopping wet?"

Wiebe was rather indignant. "Of course I noticed that I'm wet. I was hopping around in the pouring rain for a while- I'm bound to be wet!"

"Oh, okay then. Well, moving on- number four. Are you aware of the fact that you're covered in black and white stripes, Merlin?"

Wiebe looked down at himself.

It was true. Apparently, the fall at the zebra crossing had left him with some rather odd-looking stripes running down the front of him. A part of him (the part he made sure to never let Arthur see) actually thought they looked rather fetching.

It was then that he noticed. Merlin. She had called him _Merlin_.

"Wiebe!" He yelled dramatically. "My name is WIEBE!"

PPitP just ignored him. "I guess you hadn't noticed then. Very well, on to number three. It has come to my attention that you are wrapped up in chains. While none of us holds any objection to that- it actually supplied us with quite a fun guessing game while you were heading this way- what we want to know is why on _earth_ they are quite so unnecessarily _shiny_."

Wiebe sighed. "Evil Sorceress. Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda. Long story cut short, the chains are shiny because the fates hate me."

"Awww- the fates don't hate you Merlin-"

"-Wiebe."

"The fates don't hate you Emrys-"

"-___Wiebe_."

"The fates don't hate you dogsbody-"

"'My name is WIEBE!"

PPitP was beginning to look annoyed now. "Look- as much as I love the name Wiebe (and I do love it), the laws in this village state that no-one can be called by any name other than one which has appeared. It's all thanks to a magic spell two years back that went a bit wrong."

"But… But magic is banned…"

"Oh, it's fine. Uther doesn't even remember this place exists. It's the only positive side effect. Now- this moves nicely on to point number two. You seem to be having an identity crisis- did you hit your head or something?"

"Grrr," growled Wiebe. "Fine. If I can't be called Wiebe until ___this_-" he motioned with his head at the words now dancing a jig around his feet- "says that it's my name, then so be it!" Glaring down at the glittering letters (and ignoring the warnings now spewing out of PPitP's mouth), Wiebe started to speak in a voice which would make most men tremble in fear (or laughter).

"___Be sé ríce bócriht æt mé be þý æfterield æfestnes, ic æbebod þú æt ymbhwyrft æt mín bócriht- mín bócriht swá Wiebe__!_ "

As soon as he finished chanting, there was a blinding flash of light, and everyone in the area was thrown precisely 17.98 feet in to the air, before floating like feathers back down to the floor. No-one was injured, but Bob's nose switched back to it's normal position, thereby reinstating him as manic world-domination obsessed Bob once again.

Well, no-one was injured.

But that doesn't mean that there wasn't anyone _affected_.

Because, as the people slowly began to realize, Wiebe had in fact managed to grow a rather fine, two-foot long dragon-like tail, wings (which were also contained in the chains, making them even tighter [and more shiny]) and, most bizarrely, scales. Scales with ran down the left of his face, the right side of his torso, and his left leg.

"Oops." Said PPitP. "Probably should've warned you about the defence mechanism earlier. Anyway, on to the most important point of all. Number one, and this is just to reiterate- ___WHY_ are you not wearing a neckerchief?"

"AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Screamed Wiebe at the top of his voice, before he sank down to the floor in despair, sobbing. "I don't know… I just don't know any more!"

* * *

******Awww. Poor Wiebe.**

******Well, we're going to have to leave it there for today. This section of the story seems to be growing more and more convoluted in our minds, and as such will have to be extended to at least one more chapter. Good news for PPitP then, as it seems she'll be appearing once more (hope you're not too freaked out by that PPitP- I know you've turned slightly… strange…)**

******Anyway, please let us know what you thought. And don't give in to the brain explodiness just yet- we promise much stranger things in the future *sadistic grins***

******(p.s. The spell translates roughly to '**_****__**By the power given to me by the old religion, I command you to bend to my will- my will as Wiebe!**_******' I wanted to use 'By the power invested in me,' but the translator said that there isn't an old English word for 'invested' *sob*)**


	7. Earthly Bonds and Scales

**SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!****SORRY!**

**We really are so, SO, SOOOOOOOO sorry over the wait- leaving you for over a year is completely unacceptable on all accounts (especially with very little excuse). We offer ourselves up for whatever tortures may pop into your minds.**

**However, in an endeavour to keep this story as light-hearted as we intended it to be, we must leave our apologies there. As always, pick your method of reading- whether out loud or in your head, as long as the voice is your most dramatic, this story should prove oodles of fun.**

**Now, on with the story! (YATTA!)**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Merlin**

* * *

Half an hour after Wiebe had broken down in tears, PoisoningPigeonsinthePark finally deemed fit to return to the all-powerful sorcerer and slap him upside the head.

"Quit your bawling- it was cute at first, but now it's just plain creepy."

She was just about to continue ranting at him, telling him that an all-powerful Warlock should behave more like a man, when she was interrupted by the sound of powerful wing-beats. Moments later, a huge golden Dragon somehow managed to land in the middle of the village without knocking anything over. Although no-one really thought to mention the fact that the village idiot had been positioned right where the Dragon was now seated. And yes, there was actually someone in the village more idiotic than Dexter and Bob.

Kilgarrah, being a wise and mighty being of legends, was just about to impart some utterly useless nugget of trivial knowledge on the people scattered around his feet, when PPitP suddenly gave him a glare which would silence even the lord of the underworld. She flicked back her multi-coloured hair (a stray spark whacking poor Wiebe in the face in the process), and rested her hands on her hips.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you're doing here?"

It was then that Wiebe decided that a terrified Dragon was a rather hilarious sight. Kilgarrah must have backed up at least five feet, managing to crush the village idiot's house in the process. No-one especially minded- partly because he was a giant Dragon, and partly because the idiot in question hadn't been seen since Kilgarrah had sat on him.

PPitP, meanwhile, simply continued her rant.

"I was just about to get useless here-"

"Hey!" Wiebe objected.

PPitP shrugged non-committally, pointing. "It says 'useless' right there- on your left knee." She glared back up into one of the Dragon's huge golden eyes. "Anyway, continuing from where I left off- I was just about to get moron here to shut up and quit with the weeping, when you just _had_ to butt in- how annoying do you have to be?"

Kilgarrah looked suitably chastised. "I- I was just going to ask the young Warlock why he had become separated from his other half. There is danger creeping up on the young princeling."

"And there's another thing!"

"What?"

"That whole 'other half' nonsense- do you even realize just how slashy that sounds? I mean- you're talking about a Prince! And Dogsbody here is obviously straight!"

Wiebe grinned like the whole world had finally turned in his favour (temporarily forgetting his scales). "Finally! _Somebody_ noticed!"

PPitP smiled. "Trust me- I know plenty of people who understand your pain. It must be tough on you."

There were a few moments of silence as Wiebe stood still, grinning up at the sky, safe in the knowledge that there were a few people out there who truly understood him.

It was only then that Kilgarrah managed to notice that Wiebe seemed to have succeeded in becoming semi-draconic himself.

"Mmmmmerlin," growled the Dragon, not noticing the small, angry muttering of 'Wiebe' from the young Warlock in question."Did you realize that..." He broke off, apparently lost for words for the first time in his life.

PPitP, finally deciding that she had had enough, promptly jumped up on to one of Kilgarrah's front legs, brandishing a giant fly-swatter in her hand (which no-one ever knew where she got it from), and whacked the ginormous lizard around the snout as hard as she could (which was quite hard- she had managed to inherit the strength of a Triphlaphane from Planet Oglentine, thanks to her grandfather on her mother's side).

"Yes!" She screamed, "we _all_ know that Merlin has not only managed to get himself wrapped up in unnecessarily shiny chains, but has also succeeded in the unwanted art of transforming himself into a smaller version of you- at least partly. We've already moved past that! So you can just get your butt into gear and figure out how to help! Unless, that is, you're actually only _pretending_ to be all-knowing. I have a sneaking suspicion that the only thing you're actually good at is messing up everyone's futures. I mean, honestly! You just DON'T MAKE SENSE! Everything you ever say only makes things WORSE!"

There were a few moments of silence, filled only with the sound of PPitP's furious panting. Eventually, Dexter stepped forward from the crowd (which had originally dispersed roughly ten minutes into Wiebe's tantrum, and had now reformed, completely unnoticed by all those who had spoken previously), and tilted his head up at the enormous beast seated on the only person in the village who had been more stupid than himself (that is, as long as no-one had pressed Bob's nose).

"'Scuse me Mr. Dragony-fing, but I was just'a wonderin' why you came 'ere in the first place."

"Oh shut up!" Exclaimed Bob- who, now that his nose had assumed it's normal position, was back to his usual, overbearing self. "Nobody here cares about what this monstrosity is doing here. I, for one, am solely of the opinion that he should tell me how I could use those unnecessarily shiny chains in one of my World domination attempts. I've thought of tying up a large pig and catapulting it into my enemies, but the idea just doesn't seem like one a future overlord should use. It really is not dignified enough."

Needless to say, Bob was the next one to feel the wrath of PPitP's flyswatter.

"Actually," ventured Wiebe, stepping forward (although he still had tears in his eyes), "Dexter has a good point. Why _are_ you here?"

Kilgarrah stamped his foot. No doubt it was in an attempt to appear intimidating, but all who were gathered were of the collective opinion that he merely looked like a stroppy teenage girl. In fact, if someone were to add a voluptuous Blonde wig, the picture would have been perfect.

"What _are_ you talking about, young Warlock? _You_ are the one who summoned _me_!"

Wiebe drew himself up indignantly. Although, thanks to the still-flowing tears, he himself only managed to look like a teary-eyed, big-eared toddler. "I did no such thing!"

"I beg to differ, young Warlock. About half an hour ago, you let out a mighty roar. _That_ is the reason for my appearance."

"I think I ought to know whether or not I called you! Who's the Dragonlord here?"

Kilgarrah looked momentarily taken aback. Unfortunately, this didn't last long, and he was soon replying (albeit in a somewhat whiney tone) with- "That, young Warlock, is beside the point. The fact remains that I heard your call, and felt compelled to obey. Surely _that_ is proof enough that you used your powers- whether or not you intended to."

While Wiebe and Kilgarrah began to engage in a rather pointless (and entirely puerile) staring competition, PPitP stepped forwards, clearing her throat with such authority that even the ghost of the former village idiot (who had been attempting to wriggle out from underneath Kilgarrah's enormous bulk) stopped what he was doing in order to give her his full attention.

"Do you not think," PPitP stated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "that Merlin yelling in despair earlier could have been misconstrued as a Dragonlord's roar? I mean, he is essentially half Dragon right now- it only makes sense that the two of you would find it easier to contact each other."

A collective whisper of 'Ahhhhhh' erupted around the village (Bob, in all of his arrogance, behaving as though he had thought as much all along), and Wiebe and Kilgarrah were left looking like two scolded toddlers who had been caught having an argument over who could make the most mud balls.

"Now, Kilgarrah," continued the strange girl, while picking a strawberry from her hair and biting it in two, "do you, or do you not, know how to transform Muttonhead here back into something more resembling of a human form? You have ten seconds to answer. And if you even _think_ about telling me by using a riddle, you can expect to spend the next fifty years with Brussel Sprouts growing continuously between your teeth! Ten. Nine."

Kilgarrah wasted all of two seconds looking terrified at the threat, then five more studying Merlin intently. Finally, with just one second left of PPitP's countdown, he began to answer in as rushed a voice as anyone could ever have imagined coming from the tremendous lizard.

"I believe the effects of the spell will wear off on their own in due course. But it would be best to leave this village at the earliest opportunity- the longer you spend here, the longer it will take for you to resume your normal form." He finished by taking a deep breath, then turning to PPitP and asking (in a rather subdued, but still quite whiney, tone), "can I go now?"

The terrifying human(?) nodded her consent, and off Kilgarrah flew, leaving the ghost of the village idiot to pick up his body and lug it towards the location where the village usually built their funeral pyres. Fortunately for said idiot, he had in life been a body-builder by habit, so he was quite capable of beginning the task of building his pyre by himself. Which was a good thing, because the only one who volunteered to help him was Dexter. And Dexter tended to get in the way whenever he tried to help.

Sparing barely a glance for the two idiots and their failing attempts, PPitP spun around to face Wiebe. With a sort of sadness, she hefted him to his feet.

"Well then," she began, "I suppose that means that you're going to have to leave us now. I'm going to miss you, Cretin."

Before Wiebe was entirely sure what exactly was going on, he found himself standing five yards outside of the village. PPitP had stormed off to organise a more effective way to build the village idiot's funeral Pyre (which, from the looks of it, involved Bob, Dexter and plenty of soup), and the other villagers had gone back to their regular daily routines as if nothing out of the norm had occurred. Honestly, Wiebe wouldn't have been surprised if someone had told him that it _had_ actually been a normal day for them.

Looking down at himself in bemusement, a flash of red caught his eye. Craning his neck (and trying not to be blinded by the unnecessarily shiny chains), he found himself looking at a brand new neckerchief, which had somehow found it's way around his neck. Squinting slightly, he found he could just about make out an inscription sewn along one edge, in glittering multi-coloured thread-

'To Wiebe. From PoisoningPidgeonsinthePark.'

Smiling at the abnormal girl's acceptance of his name (he could only assume that the village laws applied only to _speaking_ a name which hadn't appeared), Wiebe jiggled slightly, until the new neckerchief rested in a more comfortable position. Then, taking a deep breath (and ignoring the fact that he was getting quite hungry by this point), he turned his back to the village of freaks, and continued on his hopping way.

* * *

**As before, all suggestions are welcome. If included in the story, we will make sure to have you yourself (yes, we mean YOU *points at you*) appear at some point. Although we can't guarantee that you'll be human(oid).**

**Now, I'm off to post a bunch of other Merlin fics. Oh, and in case you were wondering, this fic is currently among our highest fanfiction priorities, so it hopefully shouldn't be too long before any readers who have stuck with us (as unworthy as we are) are given their next bout of utter insanity.**

**(ps. We realise that they should have asked Kilgarrah how to remove the chains. But, as that would't be any fun, we'll just go with the reasoning that they're all a little bit dumb at times.)**

**Toodle Pip.**

* * *

**Edit: On a random whim, I have now created an image of Kilgarrah in a voluptuous Blonde wig, as inspired by a certain line of this chapter. Please view it: (Replace the '(dot)'s with'.'s etc.)**

**crimplecroc (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) 4573 (dot) html**


	8. Forged in Flames

**We're back! **

**Thanks so much to those who read/reviewed/glanced at the previous chapter. More madness and mayhem on the way!**

**(ps. To those readers who, like us, take pleasure in reading this story aloud in highly dramatic voices, this chapter works especially well when speaking like a cackling witch. Feel free to even insert insane giggles at random points. Basically? Have fun with it. Because what good is this story if you can't have fun?)**

**Disclaimer: It was probably a wise decision of the creators of the Merlin series' to _not_ give us rights of ownership... As much as we want them...**

* * *

The sun, in some sadistic twist of fate, had decided upon the dispersal of the previously immense rain clouds that it desired nothing more than to melt the skin off of Wiebe's gradually tiring body. At least, that was what it felt like to Wiebe. He liked to give natural phenomena personalities- it brightened up his normally mundane life.

It was while Wiebe was pondering this that a horrifying thought struck him. There he was- hopping along, bound up in unnecessarily shiny chains, turned semi-draconic, covered in black and white stripes, gradually wasting away through lack of food, struggling to make his way back to Camelot to save the day for the who-knew-how-many-th (he had certainly lost track a mere month into his stay) time, and yet _still_ his first thought was that his life was mundane. Something, he mused, was seriously wrong with his mental outlook on life. He was altogether too comfortable with the perils his life had presented to him.

Unfortunately for poor Wiebe, this new epiphany was to be tested far sooner than any (who didn't know of his prior mishaps) would have deemed plausible.

With a strange whistling sound, a large drop of... something indescribable... dropped from the sky, splashing itself down Wiebe's entire front. He paused in his hopping, staring down at the mysterious substance and hoping beyond all hopes that it wasn't something dangerously acidic. A part of his brain, however, was entirely stuck on the fact that the unnecessarily shiny chains seemed to have repelled the foreign... whatever-it-was. They really were the most unusual (and highly annoying) chains he had ever had the misfortune to come across.

His musings were once again interrupted when what appeared to be a stream of dazzling flames swept past his vision. In fact, were it not for his single draconic eye, he doubted he would have been able to make out the absurd figure of a giant flaming bird without first having to slow down time. Something he did anyway. This could have been because he wanted a more detailed look at the majestic fire-bird swooping around his head. Or it could have simply been because Wiebe _enjoyed_ slowing down time. No-one would ever know.

The bird in question was indeed a sight to behold- flames seemed to have taken the place of feathers, and it's eyes shone with the light of a thousand glow worms. But the thing which most prompted Wiebe to think of the bird as a possible future friend was the fact that it had a ridiculously large top hat balanced on the end of it's magnificent tail, and a sock atop it's head. How he knew what a top hat was, Wiebe was not sure, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. In fact, he merely found himself wanting one of his own. Hats, in a strange way, had always suited him (even ones with ridiculous amounts of feathers).

"Yo," called Wiebe, before pausing temporarily to wonder just how much he had been influenced by a certain rapping druid.

"Aloha!" The bird uttered in return, in a voice scarily similar to a 40-odd thick-set man with a serious smoking problem (who had spent at least five hours drinking alcohol non-stop). "You must be Merlin!"

Wiebe froze.

His solitary right eyebrow twitched.

A mad gleam entered his eyes.

A strange energy crackled in the region of his middle toe on his left foot.

...And then a tree exploded five feet to the left...

"My name," he forced out through gritted teeth, "is no longer Merlin. I have changed it. For the past several hours now, my name has been Wiebe."

The fire-bird promptly rolled it's eyes, and flew up to hover several feet above Wiebe's head.

"Yes, well that's all well and good, but do you really think that people hundreds of years from now are going to want to refer to the greatest Warlock of all time time as the All-Powerful Wiebe? That's ridiculous!"

Another tree exploded to the right.

It seemed for a moment as though the strange bird would comment on such a blatant magical temper-tantrum. But instead, oddly enough, it chose that specific moment to join the trees in self-combustion, erupting into a cloud of dust, ash and broiling vapours. Most of which decided to cling onto Wiebe (but not, of course, to the unnecessarily shiny chains). Were it not for the shock of a ginormous egg-shaped mass of ash whacking his head during it's fall to the ground, Wiebe would have wondered precisely how much more dirt it was humanly (and draconically) possible to attach to his body during the rest of his long hopping return journey back to Camelot.

As it was, however, he instead stared, his brain utterly blank, as the huge clump of ash burst once more into flame, a teeny-tiny featherless creature of a bird seated in the centre of the crackling fire.

Five long seconds passed as Wiebe stood staring at the wrinkly little thing.

Then, deciding it was probably best not to get involved with a bird who reverted to child form with so little prior warning, he hopped around the flaming creature and continued on his hopping way. The only time he looked back was to see the bird rising up once more- this time in full-on teenage mode. In fact, the strange thing even had what people hundreds of years in the future would recognise as an MP3 player tucked into it's brand new hoody, the earphones blasting music out at a phenomenal volume. Something about voices and trying to understand.

As he turned away once more, Wiebe remained blissfully unaware that the strange substance had moved up off of his front and onto his shoulder, and had seated itself there. It offered the bopping bird a mournful little wave, then settled down for a nice nap.

Wiebe decided to block the entire incident from his memory.

For a full hour after the-meeting-which-he-had-decided-to-forget-about, he hopped along in the light of the blisteringly hot sun, sweat pouring out of each and every available pore, until he could have sworn that the dazzlingly bright torturer-in-the-sky was seriously trying to force every ounce of moisture from his body. He actually welcomed it at first, reasoning that the sweat would somehow loosen the unnecessarily shiny chains' grip and allow him to slip out of his bonds. What he wasn't counting on was that said chains were determined to be even more sadistic than the sun, and so instead tightened and became even _more_ unnecessarily shiny with every drop of sweat to land on them.

The strangest thing, though, was that the left of his face, the right side of his torso, his left leg, his wings _and_ his tail were all perfectly cool. It was almost as though the reptilian sections of him were basking in the soaring temperatures. It was one of the most disconcerting feelings he had ever experienced. (Which was yet another cause for concern- the knowledge that some of his past experiences had been even _more_ disconcerting was a shock to say the least.)

Just when he was about ready to flake away, and drift off on the (non-existent) wind, a hubbub of noise suddenly meandered by, before his one draconic ear grabbed hold of it and forced his brain to pay attention. At almost the same moment, his draconic nostril picked up the unmistakable scent... of roasting chestnuts.

* * *

**Yeah... We're a bit odd... This chapter was going to be something completely different. But then... our brains took over. Sigh. Oh well, we had fun writing it. And hopefully you have fun reading. He he.**

**Ja ne.**


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